


Spring Awakening for a Winter's Night

by Playfulpawing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6973972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Playfulpawing/pseuds/Playfulpawing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve and Sirius fears he might not be getting a gift from the one person he most wants one from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Awakening for a Winter's Night

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of Christmas fluff from way back in 2006. Moving my works over from LJ slowly but surely.

It wasn't that Sirius forgot things. In fact he remembered quite the myriad of pointless bits and pieces which never ceased to enthrall and distract when necessary. It was a defense mechanism he had modelled after Remus. Upon realizing that his most intricate plot ideas could be wiped from his mind with a single correction from Remus, he began to employ the tactic himself in order to wipe the idea of his plots from the minds of others. For most people, correcting a person in the middle of their chewing you out could be dangerous but, with his smile to back it up, Sirius need not fear.  
  
No, it was most definitely not a matter of forgetting so much as it was a matter of ignoring. The holidays were something Sirius could ignore. They brought nothing but memories of formal and uptight dinner parties which he, now having escaped them, felt sadly and oddly nostalgic for. Particularly when he was sitting all alone in his cold flat staring dimly at his Christmas tree.  
  
He had not wanted the tree, nor had he wanted presents. He had wanted to ignore and he had been doing just that - rather well actually - until James and Peter burst into his flat two days before, proclaiming it three days 'til Christmas and chastising him for having forgotten. Now the tree lit the room with an orangey tinge as the much-too-bright enchanted star left a haze in the small space. And under the tree there were presents. Three presents to be exact. One from James, one from Peter and, oddly, one from Lily. Sirius regarded the absence of a present from Remus with a mixture of happiness and hurt. He supposed he should be glad that at least one of his demented friends had listened to his request of 'NO presents!' but he could not help but feel disheartened as he reflected on the fact that, of all his friends, he would have been most anxious to see what Remus offered by way of a gift. He had seen less and less of Remus lately, though he wasn't sure if this was his fault or not. When last they had spoken, things had gotten very tense and Sirius had almost kissed his friend. Now he was afraid that this was his friends way of saying that he no longer felt Sirius deserved any part of his life.   
  
Still, he had hoped there would be a present.   
  
He imagined, if there was, it would probably be a book of some sort. A classic which he no doubt would have scoffed at in front of their friends yet happily given a permanent home on his night stand the very next day. It would remind him of Remus in every way, from the musty smell of the pages to the very structure of the sentences it contained and he could glance upon it whenever he had occasion to need a little more light in his day.   
  
He did this often enough with gifts bestowed upon him by his other friends, in particular an extremely dashing set of Quidditch robes James had purchased for him in fifth year. But with Remus the comfort was different. It was less of a shining pride in himself, such as he felt when things reminded him of James or Peter, and more of a glowing affection. This did not sit well with him, but it was too pleasant for him to ignore or even avoid. In fact he craved it, and it was for this reason that he found himself staring forlornly at the gifts under the tree, as if their very presence had been cancelled out by the lack of an offering from his lycanthropic friend.  
  
As he lay there, almost dozing, the fireplace crackled to life and a coughing Remus climbed out of the flash of Floo powder and soot awakening him almost instantaneously.  
  
"Merlin!" Remus coughed, swiping frantically at the soot on his shoulders. "Have you not cleaned in the last year? You do realize your fireplace is a part of the floo network, correct?"  
  
"Remus," Sirius remarked in a haze of sleep, not bothering to cover the sparkle in his eye as he crossed the room and enveloped his friend in a hug.  
  
Remus, whose frantic brushing motions were halted by the unusual tightness of Sirius' embrace, was caught off guard but hugged back briefly before gently and playfully shoving Sirius away.  
  
"Yes, yes. I love you too. Do you have a lint roller perchance?" he remarked, his breathing finally returning to normal.  
  
"A what?" Sirius asked, bewildered.  
  
"Muggle contraption. Forget I asked."  
  
"How about this?" Sirius remarked pulling his wand from within his robe and, casting a quick Scourgfiy on Remus, removing the remaining soot from his robes. "You really should stay out of all chimneys on a night like tonight. I hear tell that there are all manner of red-suited fat men running about diving down them and stealing everyone's baking."  
  
"Santa is not real and he certainly does not steal. People leave cookies out for him."  
  
"Well, if he's not real, why the cookies?" Sirius asked, eyebrow arched.  
  
"To help children retain the mystical wonder of childhood of course and I have no patience for arguing with you over muggle folklore at the minute. In fact, I have simply come by to drop off my Christmas present to you and jump back into your fireplace, making my sooty escape before you have a chance to reprimand me."  
  
"I want to be mad at you. I really do. But, the presents over there look like the could use a friend. And who am I to deny them a companion?" Sirius remarked, gesturing at the Christmas tree in fake exasperation.  
  
Remus could see easily through this acting and snickered slightly under his breath.  
  
"You really were afraid I wouldn't get you anything, weren't you?"  
  
"No!" Sirius snapped, grasping at his old convictions once more before it became a dying cause.  
  
"It's a book anyway." Remus all but whispered pulling the carefully wrapped parcel from his robes and handing it to Sirius who moved forward to take it.  
  
"I knew it would be," Sirius countered but there was neither disdain nor arrogance in the statement. "Can I open it?"  
  
"You're a big boy now. There's no one here to punish you for opening your gifts a few hours early."  
  
"On the contrary, there is you. And I should not want you mad at me, I may never receive another book again."  
  
"Go ahead." Remus acquiesced smiling warmly, tucking his hands deep into his pockets.  
  
Sirius gently began the task of painstakingly peeling each bit of tape from the box, trying not to upset the delicate gilded paper. Though he would have been more than happy to simply shred the wrapping from the box, he had learned from years of experience that Remus took extra care in both wrapping and unwrapping presents and now he did too in order to appease his friend. With the paper removed Sirius gently opened the plain cardboard box and removed the book from its confines. What he discovered was a lovely leather bound copy of Frank Wedekind's "The Awakening of Spring". The inside cover bore the words 'Nothing says Merry Christmas like a tragic tale of childhood love. -Remus'.  
  
"You have certainly outdone yourself in the way of macabre gifts, though I must admit I look forward to absorbing it all."  
  
"Good. Now, I must be going. Do try not to become wholly illiterate before you read the play. I often worry that, without school, you might do so. Besides, I feel the play has a great message to offer. About not letting others dictate your actions or feelings and most importantly loving someone. Before it's too late. We need these things now more than ever. But I must get off my soap box and go to bed now."  
  
"Don't," Sirius remarked quietly, "You should stay. The chimney is much too sooty for you to travel through it again and it's snowy out and.....to be thoroughly honest I just want you here. With me."  
  
Remus seemed to ponder this remark for a moment before silently walking over and sitting on the couch, where Sirius joined him seconds later. Sirius regarded him quizzically waiting for the profound statement Remus was no doubt intending to make. For a moment there was silence and then Remus spoke the words pouring out of him at an unusually fast rate.  
  
"There is more to it than just loving someone. I've barely seen you in the last three months. We've been dancing around the line forever and I think it's time we stopped. Are you avoiding me or am I avoiding you? Cause frankly I'm not sure anymore and I don't believe that either of us wants to. And I am a blabbering fool at these matters, and I wasn't even gonna buy you anything until I realized that if we're slowly saying goodbye, I want you to have something to remember me by. Because I can't stand the thought that you might...."  
  
And as suddenly as they had begun the words were silenced. Sirius' lips were on Remus' and the pair were embracing frantically, letting all the frustrations and insecurities of the past few months pour out into this one kiss.  
  
As they separated Sirius smiled at Remus' stunned look.  
  
"Sirius, you never cease to amaze me." Remus remarked, bewildered, before finally regaining his sense and throwing forth a question, "Was that my Christmas present?"  
  
"It's no controversial German play, but it's all I have."  
  
"Can I tell you a secret? It's what I asked Santa for."  
  
"But you know Santa's not real, right?" Sirius joked.  
  
"I'm not so sure anymore," Remus commented before leaning in for another kiss.

  


"Oh, I'm gonna be wounded. Oh, I'm gonna be your wound. Oh, I'm gonna bruise you. Oh, You're gonna be my bruise" ~The Word of Your Body (Reprise)


End file.
